


Coach Quinn

by InchByInch



Category: Homeland
Genre: Bittersweet, Cake, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Birthday, Identity and change, Love, Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 10:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13809198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InchByInch/pseuds/InchByInch
Summary: Happy Birthday, dearest Frangi!





	Coach Quinn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrangipaniFlower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/gifts).



> In this AU, Keane lost the election because one of her advisors encouraged her to download a JPEG file sent to her by a stranger. The file contained a virus that allowed the hacker to access the microphone from Keane’s laptop. He recorded Keane talking to herself before a campaign rally, saying: “Be nice. Listen. I hear you."
> 
>  
> 
> Carrie, Quinn, and Franny live in the Adirondack mountains where Carrie ~~analyzes communication records of international arms dealers for the NSA~~ works as a sales analyst for Northern Telecom. Franny is in the first grade and Quinn is her primary caregiver, but he is also heavily involved in baking and coaching. They are doing pretty well, even though Carrie often thinks of the JPEG file, and how opening it ruined her life.

“That’s a good one, Franny, let’s put that on the fridge.”

  
“I like drawing pictures of us.”

  
“Those are always my favorite, too.”

  
“I always have loved to draw, even when I was was little.”

  
Quinn smiled at the thought that Franny, who had just turned seven, described three years ago as though that were when she was little. “I know, I still have some pictures you drew for me back when I first met you.”

  
“No! You knew me when I was a baby.”

  
“I did. A little.” This topic was always a favorite of Franny’s. Quinn knew it was because she wanted to feel that he really was a father to her. His heart broke a little with happiness that she wanted that, and also but sadness that he would never be well enough to be the kind of father she longed to have.

  
“You bounced me on your knee!”

  
“Yes. Those are the pictures I keep – the drawings you made of the two of us. You were so tiny and you had an adorable smile.”

  
“But now I’m a big girl. I am not like that anymore. The only thing the same is that I have red hair. I always had red hair, even when I was a baby. Mommy had a picture of me in the swimming pool when I was a baby and you can see how red my hair was, just like now!”

  
“Yeah, your hair was always red.” Quinn reached over and gave that hair a tousle.

  
“Nothing else is the same.”

  
“You are still beautiful, with a smile that makes me happier than anything else in the world. That is what I remember most from when you were a baby. Your smile made me so happy.”

  
“Hey, you two,” Carrie walked in the kitchen. “Oh God, that looks amazing!”

“Lemon cheesecake squares.”

  
“Quinn and I made it for him to take to the team! But three will stay home for us.”

  
“Excellent. Is that a new family portrait on the fridge, Fran?”

  
Quinn gave her a look to let her know he heard that.

  
“I’m going to draw another one of Peter with me when I was a baby. I was soo tiny and all I could do was cry. Waa! Waa!” Franny pretended to suck her thumb, clearly enamored with her own vision of her baby self.

  
“Aw, Frany-Banany, you will always be my baby!”

  
“Noooo! That's silly! I am nothing like I was when I was a baby.”

  
“I still love you as much as when you were small and helpless.”

  
“I’m going to get my colored pencils!” Franny ran upstairs.

  
“God, they don’t tell you, you know, how bittersweet it is when they grow and change. I _do_ still miss cuddling her tiny body. She is such a … _person_ these days.”

  
“I know what you mean.”

  
“You know, you would have been great with her when she was a baby.”

  
Quinn gave her a frown. What the fuck did she mean by that? Carrie ignored him and moved on.

  
“I’ll give Franny a hotdog and some applesauce, and then order dinner so we can eat when you get home.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Indian?”

  
“Sounds good.” Quinn held her tighter than either of them was expecting and rubbed his thumb across her cheek before letting her go.

  
“Have a good practice, Quinn.”

 

\---

 

“That’s right, steady … squeeze the trigger as you breathe out.”

  
Quinn encouraged his pupil with the same words Dar had used back a million years ago teaching him how to hit his first targets with a high-powered rifle.

“My heartbeat is still too fast.”

  
“You control your heartbeat – feel it slowing down, and it will, just like you’ve practiced.”

  
“But it’s too much pressure! How did you handle it, knowing was at risk if you missed?”

  
Quinn felt his mind go into the familiar frozen loop. How many times had he missed, and a friend or an innocent person died as a result? How many shots did he take when knew he was about to be killed by the man in his sites? Then there was the time he had to shoot Carrie. Fuck, if he had m—

  
“I mean, when you won the gold? If you had missed, you would have had to ski penalty laps, you wouldn’t have even been on the podium!”

  
Jesus Christ, the girl was asking about his medal in the Paralympics. That pressure. Right.

  
“You can’t think about the potential outcome, just focus on the process of what you are doing.”

  
Quinn tried to smile reassuringly at the young skier. The kid had potential. Team USA had never medaled in biathlon, but that was one of the reasons Quinn liked the sport, it was really a competition with your own past performance. He also knew how much his self-esteem was boosted by spending time teaching kids who were in absolute awe of him and his gold medal.

  
Which was weird. On the one hand, he denigrated his accomplishment. Fucking cripple Olympics. Why not just give him a hug, and put him where he belonged in the Special Olympics? And really, he was a professional competing against amateurs, which felt unfair.

  
But on the other hand, if anyone ever called his fellow Paralympians “cripple” he would leave that person on the ground without a second thought. He had seen a lot of things in his life, the best and most heroic, as well as the worst and most vile human beings. Those guys were the best. Truly. He was filled with respect for all they overcame – for their determination and their dedication – for how much they achieved. Being a part of The Paralympic team had encouraged him to overcome limits that he thought were fixed. And even if he had been a professional killer, after the stroke he had to learn everything all over again. Really, he had been a different person before the stroke, with so many – capabilities — that he just took for granted. He still couldn’t think of all he’d lost without regret for the man he had once been. Regret was a short trip to sadness, depression, and anger, so thinking about who he had been was a no-go zone. That was a different life, a different man.

  
The problem was, stretching himself and overcoming limits had pretty much stopped now. Definitely stopped. He was not going to get any better than he currently was and that wasn’t good enough. Sure, he had his PTSD and his paranoia under control. His mind still wandered in and out of time, but he always knew what was real. He hardly ever stuttered or lost access to words, although the apraxia did come back when he was stressed or tired. But his left arm was still basically useless, and his left leg sucked. Even after three years, he still wished every minute that he could be the man who had walked into that sarin chamber.

  
“Thanks, Yoda.” There was the respect he was looking for. The girl took her shot and missed the target by a small amount.

  
“Fuck!” She pursed her lips, embarrassed to have used such language, shown such emotion, in front of her coach.

  
Quinn chuckled. “No regrets. When you are struggling against tough odds, you will have failures. You have to learn from them and move on.”  


  
“You make it sound easy.”

  
“Don’t believe that for a second. But if it were easy, then the reward wouldn’t be worth the effort.” He was relieved she didn’t ask him to clarify further. For Quinn, the real gold was these kids, their future selves. He didn’t want them to go off into the world ready to abandon responsibilities to others, being controlled by a paycheck rather than the commitment to do the right thing.

  
_No good can come from this fucked up world we’ve made for ourselves._ He thought about that often. He didn't know about the next generation.

  

\---

 

Later that evening, Carrie returned to their bedroom after a phone call with Maggie, but Quinn wasn’t there. She found him back downstairs in front of the TV. Apparently, one lemon cheesecake square wasn’t enough. Now he was finishing off the apple rhubarb custard pie he’d made yesterday.

  
“Hey. Watching the news?” They both knew that could cause nightmares right before bed.

  
“I know. I know. I wanted to check the scores, but the latest from Syria…” He shook his head.

  
“Have you talked to Rob recently?” She asked as he rose and turned off the set. “How long has he been working with the White Helmets? More than a year, now, right?”

  
“I had an email from him last week. He’s good. I mean, not _enjoying_ the work, but… glad he’s there, you know?”

   
“Yeah. I know part of you wishes you could be there, too.”

  
“It’s not that I’d rather be there than here, Carrie.” He followed her up the stairs, his left foot shuffling with exhaustion.

  
“You want to help. I get it. I know you.”

  
“Yeah, well, those days of being able to help are over.”

  
As they entered their bedroom, she turned back to click the lock, and the sound immediately produced a physical reaction in his body, erasing all thoughts about how useless he was. This had been coming for a while. Carrie wanted something from him, and she was going to use sex to get it. He knew that, and he absolutely didn’t care. He desired her, and when she was trying like this she was worth any fucking thing she was planning to get from him. Just the thought of was making him desperate to get her clothes off. But she wasn’t the only manipulator in their bed. He wasn’t going to let on how much anticipation he was feeling. He sat down in the small rocking chair facing her as she sat down on the bed. “Carrie. I know I’m lucky to be here.”

  
Carrie leaned towards him, her large eyes luminous and penetrating. “God, Quinn. When I look into your eyes like that… I don’t know if it’s the intensity of your stare, or how blue… I mean, of course, I totally _want_ you in these moments, but it’s also… a feeling that you _get_ me, a feeling of being understood. I’ve always felt that way with you.”

  
“Always?” He didn’t want to think about Brody and Jonas, but of course, his mind went there. He took off his t-shirt using only his right hand, hiding his eyes from hers in the process.

  
“Mmmhmm.” She was taking off her earrings, looking away. “You know I was fixated on Brody when I met you, but even that first day... I felt...didn’t you feel…. some kind of… recognition? Maybe I was just _really_ attracted to you physically, but I don’t know…”

  
God, this woman, evoking that memory, telling him she felt attraction. Oh yes, he remembered the very first time he saw her, he smelled her. Back when he was whole.

  
“Do you remember when you got Abu Nazir?” She wasn’t done.

  
“I remember when _you_ got Abu Nazir.” He slid his jeans off and worked to release his foot brace.

  
“ _We_ got Abu Nazir, Quinn. Because you trusted me. When I looked at you that day, across that parking lot, I felt so...appreciated. Do you remember?”

  
“Yeah, getting Nazir was was my cue to kill Brody. I remember that parking lot.” He moved to sit beside her on the bed, stroking her hair and lightly kissing her ear. So much for playing it cool. Carrie responded by turning towards him, but she was caught up in what he’d just said.

  
“Fuck, Quinn. I never thought about that moment in terms of Brody.” He helped her unbutton her blouse and discovered his favorite black bra. Yeah, forget those assholes, he was going to get all kinds of pleasure tonight. “You didn’t kill him, though.” She wriggled her pants off, still sitting so close that each movement seemed to brush against his body in some new sensitive erogenous zones.

  
“I didn’t.” She gently pushed him to lie on his back and positioned herself above him, straddling his torso. She took each of his hands and moved them inside her panties so that the two of them removed those together.

  
“Because you were looking out for me.” Now his boxers were coming off using the same method.

  
“Yes.” He suddenly couldn’t meet her eyes and turned his face away.

  
“But now you’re sad. That thought makes you a little sad.” She kissed his chest tenderly.

  
“Carrie, you don’t make me sad.” She offered him kisses all over his chest. Light. Fluttering.

  
“But I don’t make you happy. Not happy enough.” Her kisses moved lower. Still so soft.

  
“You make me very happy.” He gave her a genuine smile, all the way into his eyes, and even a laugh. “Right now, and in the next little bit, especially. Very happy.”

  
She pushed herself up and grinned down at him. “Good.” Carrie lay directly on top of him, their bodies pressing against each other everywhere, and the intimacy filled Quinn’s senses.

  
Their hands came together to remove her bra like a practiced team. She sighed with relief to have it gone, and arched her back so that her breast rose to meet his mouth. His tongue found her nipple, provoking a low moan.

  
He took the moment to look at all of her, naked above him, on their bed, with an expression on her face that said she was planning to make him lose consciousness shortly. “Fuck, Carrie, you’re beautiful.”

  
Quinn pulled her close and kissed her mouth, reveling in the wonder of her parting lips, her body's movements in reactions to his, the way she trembled against his fingers.

"You make me feel like my real self, Quinn." Oh, she still wanted something, and he knew he would give her anything. "Like I don't have to be medicated or afraid."

"I want to make you feel safe."  She was still on top, controlling everything. That's what she wanted tonight, and he fought his instinct to flip her onto her back and fuck her senseless. Maybe this weekend. He settled for sucking and nibbling around her ear the way he knew would distract her.

“Do you remember when I was off my meds in Berlin?” she paused for a breath. “I shot you, from like 15 yards away, and you still managed to take me down before I could figure out what happened. You were bad-ass, cold as ice. A fucking asshole.”

  
God, that was a memory. He smiled and his ragged breath found a laugh. “I had to carry you all the way in from the woods along with both our rifles. Awkward, but your weight was nothing. It was easy.” The memory of capturing her like that, physically taking her away from the life she’d chosen with another man, that was arousing him as much as her mouth.

  
“That was right after you kidnaped Jonas’ child.”

  
He snorted. **That** memory certainly wasn’t a turn-on. He thought of the terrified eyes and his own response. “I’m done talking, Carrie.” He moved his mouth exactly where he knew she was the most sensitive, while his right hand wandered across her skin, slowly moving towards what they both wanted.

  
“You still have to tell me exactly what you want, what makes you happy.”

  
“You make me happy, Carrie. I need to make you understand that.”

  
“First convince yourself. Keep working at it.” She moved so that she was kissing his midsection again, caressing and scratching him at the same time, scraping his hipbone with her teeth so that he bucked against her. He was already hard but felt the pressure building as she moved gently stroke his penis. Her mouth was right there, but she didn’t kiss him like he wanted, she was teasing him.

  
“Carrie...” he begged. “Please.”

  
She cupped his balls and breathed on him. “Tell me what you want.”

  
“I want your mouth on me.”

  
“I can see _that_ ” And then she did kiss him, lightly, and took part of him in.

  
He groaned with a mix of pleasure and pain - she was still teasing.

  
“What do you want, Quinn? Tell me.” She wasn’t going to give him real relief until he gave her something real.

  
“I just want I was the man I used to be. I want to be able to take care of you.” She took his entire dick in her mouth and he felt himself brake open in every way.

  
….

 

Later, they lay snuggled up and clinging to each other. Quinn felt ready.

  
“Carrie..tell me what’s on your mind. I know you have some new agenda recently. Is this about getting married? I haven’t changed my mind. I don’t need it, I am one hundred percent committed to you and Fran, but if that’s what you want, I’m all in. I’ll get down on one knee, give you a ring, we can involve Franny…”

  
“No. I mean yes, I guess that’s a part of it, I… Quinn, what would you think about having a baby?”

  
“A baby?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Us having a baby?”

  
“I want us to at least consider it."

  
“Carrie…”

  
“Just think about it, Quinn, that’s all I’m asking.”

  
“Carrie, you’re 41, almost 42..”

  
“So, it’s a long shot, probably wouldn’t happen, we could give it a couple of months of trying, and then, I was thinking, we could adopt. I mean, I really want a child who is like you, but there are so many kids from Syria, and Rob could help us find a baby who was really an orphan, with no family left. A child who needs us.”

  
“Fuck, Carrie.”

  
“Let’s just think about it. Might be a terrible idea, but let’s consider it, OK?”

  
“Fuck.”

  
“You’re crying.”

  
“Fuck you, you are, too.” He rolled on top of her and kissed her eyelids. “You will never stop surprising me.” He gathered her against him.

  
“Yeah, well, some things never change.”


End file.
